


soaked in sin

by CrystallizedInsomniac



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Dacryphilia, Degradation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gunplay, POV Third Person, the alt title to this fic is: "belphie what do you have there?" "a gun" "NO"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedInsomniac/pseuds/CrystallizedInsomniac
Summary: "Aw, no, no nono—" Belphegor tuts softly, cupping her cheek, thumb wiping the tears staining her face in an act of intimacy that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Eyes on me, yeah, Dove?"
Relationships: Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 47





	soaked in sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladykey17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladykey17/gifts).



> title comes from the song **bang** by **armchair cynics** which i played on repeat as I wrote this.
> 
> back in september 2020 I horny tweeted (nothing new) [this mess](https://twitter.com/crystalbases/status/1307189861212971008?s=19) and then she enabled my dumb shit (like always) and four months later after me acting like I didnt know English every time it got brought up again, I finally delivered on this. yeah.

Alicia knows about death.

That's a fact. Like any other human, a brush with death is a given at any point in time without one's knowledge.

Life has not always dealt her the better cards—but it's made her the person she is today, so maybe these unknown encounters have worked in her favor to some degree. 

Knowing about death still does not take away from the fear of ceasing to exist, doesn't really go away even when the encounter takes form in the shape of slender, cold fingers against her throat—squeezing and unforgiving—and it certainly does not stop with the snap of a neck, the muted sound of laughter, a choked last breath and then—

Silence.

 _Fear stems from the unknown,_ she can almost hear herself telling her siblings, not quite recalling the details save for the inexplicable need to comfort in one of the few ways she knows how to. _You can't fear what you know, that's a fact._

Alicia knows about death—has looked it straight in the eye and laughed and came back alive. Therefore—fear is not a stranger. _F_ _ear of death_ is not supposed to be in her vocabulary.

You can't be afraid of what you know—what you've experienced.

 _She knows this_ , and yet there's nothing she can do about the swell of panic that's been bubbling inside her stomach for the last couple of minutes since she's regained conscience. The rapid beating of her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her hands feel clammy.

There's a slight tremor to her body, and her only comfort is that she can pass it off as being cold, as opposed to scared. Even though she is, she _really is_.

"Cat got your tongue?" There's a smirk on Belphegor's face as he says it, even though it doesn't reach the tone of his voice. Like he could be anywhere else rather than here.

Alicia's never stared down a barrel of a gun before.

There's always a time for firsts it seems.

The question does nothing but make her glare at the demon, heat of the frustration masking the fear inside of her—the nervousness that comes from flickering her attention from purple eyes to that of the sleek, cold-looking metal of the gun—even as tears gather at the corner of her eyes. With Alicia's mouth gagged, there isn't even an attempt at trying to say anything, refusing him the satisfaction of a reaction.

There's still a lingering drowsiness clinging to her head, makes it so that the edges of her vision are fuzzy. Briefly, Alicia wonder if he had knocked her out, dragged her here—but there's nothing to confirm that assumption, no dull pain at the back of her nape, anywhere near her head—or if he had chocked her instead. But the shortness of breath and the tight constriction of her throat have nothing to do with being choked to the point of unconsciousness.

No, that's just fear. 

Alicia's hands are tied together in front of her. Black rope tight and chaffing, running all the way up from her wrists to her elbows. Trying to test their give proves to be a fruitless endeavor as she tries to pry them apart. It's a wonder it's not cutting off any circulation, considering how tight they are—the workmanship is not delicate, there's no attempt at trying to make it seem pleasing to the eye and why should it? She's not here because he asked her to.

Trying to move her legs proves to be another problem, for different reasons all together.

Her stomach drops a little at the thought, and belatedly she thinks that maybe there has to be something wrong with her if her priority has quickly shifted from fearing the gun in his hand—although not forgotten, _never_ forgotten—to the fact that her feet are tightly bound. Sitting on the floor, the coldness of it would be nothing if she could get her legs under her thighs, or if they were tied _together_.

Instead, the only thing preserving her modesty is the skirt of her French maid uniform. Leg's spread wide open and pulled apart, each ankle steadfastly tied with the same rope to different pillars of the room. Any attempts at trying to pull her legs back towards herself result in nothing but frustration.

The give of the rope is nonexistent. 

Belphegor is talking. Alicia can tell because he's started to walk around her, his words come in one ear and out the other. The gun in his hand is set in a loose grip, and it's there where her eyes settle the whole time. Oblivious to the look of annoyance he shoots Alicia's way—whether it be because she's _clearl_ _y_ not paying him any attention or because she hasn't done anything like cowering and whimpering like he expected her to, remains a mystery. 

Alicia is stubborn, and if he wants her to play along, it's going to take a lot more than some binding and the threat of a gun to do so.

"Don't want to talk?" Belphegor huffs out. "That's fine, Alicia." Her name coming out of his mouth makes a shiver run down her spine, she bends her head forward, wishing for once that she hadn't done her hair up today when she had promised Barbatos to stop by the castle to help—If only to make it easier for her to hide herself from Belphegor. But being gagged and held at gunpoint had not been a part of the itinerary. "I'm not here to talk either."

She closes her eyes, breathes out through her nose.

"I'm taking the gag off." is all Belphegor says before she feels the muzzle of the gun press itself at the nape of her neck. Her body freezes up automatically, and a whimper manages to escape through her lips, muffled through the gag. Still loud enough in the room that she's sure Belphegor heard it as well.

Her attention centers back down to the press of it, cold and unforgiving at the back of her neck.

Belphegor leaves it there for a second, pushing forward only to elicit another reaction, and when not getting another one out of her lips, forcefully slipping the weapon under the gag and tugging on it. It takes a bit of effort, and she's sure it's bound to leave her skin chaffed and bruised, but the gag loosens enough that when she opens her mouth again, the cloth falls from her lips, slick with spit.

She heaves in a breath, and Belphegor presses the gun right against her temple. 

"What do you say?" 

Alicia falters, just for a second. "W-what?" comes out clumsily out of her mouth, tongue heavy. 

Belphegor cocks the gun. The click of it is deafening, and Alicia's heart skips a beat. 

"Wrong thing, try again." He tsks, and even without looking, Alicia can tell his eyes have narrowed. Lips pulled thin and grim. 

"I don't—" 

Belphegor pushes—not gently—the gun on her temple and forcing her body to twist with the motion. Her eyes are wide, breath coming in panicked little gasps of air. He taps the gun against her, harsh, once, twice—

"T- _thank you!_ " It comes out in a rushed breath, panicked, voice high and fearful. She doesn't even know _why_ that's the first thing that came to mind, but once the words are out, she can't seem to help herself. "Thank you!"

Belphegor snorts, amused. 

"So you do have a brain inside that pretty little head of yours," he knocks on her temple a couple of times, delighting himself in the way he can see the woman clench her jaw and bite her lip to not say another thing. Belphegor waits a beat, with the muzzle of the gun pressed right against her before he smiles, a satisfied thing for himself.

Trails the gun down Alicia's face as he crouches behind her.

When he's sitting down he makes sure to press his front to her back, chuckling when he feels her shiver at the proximity, the miniscule movements of Alicia trying to move forward. His free hand settling itself around her and placing an open palm against her thigh, a comforting squeeze shy of meeting the edge of her skirt and a wildly different contrast—not any less nerve wrecking considering how _easy_ it'd be for him to slip his hand under her skirt—to the caress of the weapon against her cheek.

He taps her cheek with the gun once, and Alicia moves her head to the side. 

"Open your mouth." 

Alicia frowns, opens her mouth to say something but instantly snaps it shut when she feels Belphegor trail the gun to her plush lips. Prodding. 

"Don't make me say it twice," His words are soft, coaxing her into complying with his wishes. The hand on her thigh grips, painful, long nails digging into the nylon stockings and piercing flesh. Alicia hisses out, and Belphegor takes the opportunity to try and ram the muzzle of the gun inside her lips, only succeeding when he forcefully shoves it inside.

Alicia whimpers, pushes to the front, only to be met with a drumming of fingers against her panties. Her breathing hitches, eyes widening as she realizes that Belphegor has taken her momentary distraction to not only shove the gun inside her mouth, but also to pull the skirt back and tapping two fingers against her.

"Wouldn't have to force you if you stopped being so difficult." Belphegor says it like he's been forced to do _this._ To tie Alicia up, force her to open up her legs and to let him play around with her body—stick a _gun_ inside her mouth, harsh and cold and _heavy_ , knocking uncomfortably around her teeth where the softness of her own lips can't quite wrap around the material of it. "Just want to make you feel good, 's all."

Belphegor leans forward, resting his chin on the crook of her neck. Smiling lazily at the way Alicia jumps in place when he traces her covered slit with his middle finger, not probing deep enough that he can feel the heat of her core through the outside of the underwear, but enough to have her squirming. She makes noises of protest, trying to push the gun away with her tongue, moving her mouth, anything—

All it does is make him _tsk_ , smile turning into something colder and showing teeth as he pushes the gun further inside. Loving the way she gags on it.

"Of course, can't have a slut like you getting rewarded without putting in the work, right?" Belphegor hums. His fingers hook under the seat of her panties, pulling, only to let it snap right back. "Seems fair no?"

If he's expecting an answer from Alicia, he's not getting one save for a side-eyed glare, tears swelling and decorating her long eyelashes beautifully. Belphegor shivers, excitement running down his body at the prospect of seeing her cry. He tilts his head so his lips brush against her cheek. 

"I'll make you a deal, hm?" The fingers disappear for a quick second, and Alicia's shoulders drop with relief that's shortly-lived, given that not a breath later Belphegor instead opts to bypass the whole flipping her skirt over and instead sticking his hand under it, under her own underwear. Palm brushing against her clit, as he slips a finger inside. There's a noise of surprise that leaves him when he notices the ease with which it goes in. "I'll play with you, make you cum on my fingers for now, and all you have to do is be a good girl and suck me off."

Alicia isn't expecting him to give her a chance to answer, certainly takes her a moment when she's so focused on his finger lazily pumping in and out of her to realize that the gun's been removed from her mouth. She sucks in air greedily, ignoring the mess of saliva running down her lips, the thin thread of it still clinging to the gun still close to her face but no longer inside of her mouth.

"And..." she coughs, breathing irregular, "and if I don't?"

"Bang." Belphegor snickers. He waves the gun in the air in front of her face, slowly, taunting. 

"Okay." Alicia sighs. "Let me move—"

"Move?" Belphegor asks. "Why would you need to move?"

"I can't do it... I can't do it if you don't let me move."

"I never said anything about my dick," Belphegor raises an eyebrow, "are you that desperate to suck some cock?"

Alicia grunts, frustrated and pent up, hating the way her hips have begun to hump onto his hand, seeking for anything else that makes her forget how _empty_ she feels with only one finger inside. His palm feels nice against her clit, and the restraint of her undergarments means that Belphegor doesn't pull away far. Still, it's only one finger. 

Belphegor taps the gun against her lips. "Suck it."

Alicia presses her tongue against the back of her teeth. "I don't—"

The finger slips out, and Belphegor wastes no time in pinching her clit. It jolts her, lips parting into a high squeal that get's interrupted the moment the gun is forcibly shoved inside again. Alicia takes a deep breath through her nose, ignores the tears that spill over her cheeks as she hollows her cheeks and begins to bob her head on the weapon.

Belphegor is _chatty,_ makes the whole thing embarrassing. He's stopped working his finger inside of her, only rubbing her clit softly and pinching at random intervals all the while keeping up the murmurs, the _you're doing so good you filthy slut, sucking a gun like it's dick, ha_ and it's becoming embarrassingly clear to Alicia that he's definitely getting off to this. Can feel him rutting his covered erection against her backside, pressing his body closer to her. 

Is also aware of the way her own cunt is drooling, arousal pooling at the seat of her own underwear and hole clenching around nothing. Belphegor hisses out a _cockslut_ that hits too close to comfort, and she closes her eyes, sagging against him. 

"So wet," Belphegor murmurs in awe when he finally gets bored of playing with her. The gun gets taken out of her mouth and Alicia heaves in lungful's of air. There's spit running down her chin, wetting the front of her uniform, loose strands of hair clinging to the side of her face where it's wet with either her saliva or sweat. "Needy little cunt wants some attention, how cute."

Belphegor doesn't give her any more warning before she feels two fingers prod insider of her all at once. There's not a lot of friction, her own arousal making his finger's job easy. Belphegor is oddly quiet now, much to Alicia's annoyance. Him being quiet means that it's difficult to ignore the dirty squelch of her pussy as Belphegor drives his fingers in and out of her, makes it difficult to ignore the rising crescendo of her moans.

"Fuck yourself on my fingers," Belphegor says, and then placing the gun under her chin, tilting Alicia's head back uncomfortably. She whines, kicks her legs, anything to dislodge him and his fingers, but Belphegor is anything but determined to make her cum, curling his fingers and dragging them out, playing with her hot insides. 

Her orgasm catches her by surprise, and by the time it dawns on her that she's going to come it's too late to ask Belphegor to stop. His name gets drowned out in a moan, she feels the tears beginning to trail down her cheeks as her own hips cant to meet his own fingers, and whining in discomfort only when she feels him prod a third finger in.

"Ssh, c'mon you can take it." Belphegor moans himself, watching with rapt attention the way he can only make out the filthy movements under her skirt as to what's happening. His palm brushing against her clit sending electric-like shocks up Alicia's spine. He's completely enamored by the sound of her breaths, her crying. The way her walls contract against his fingers, sucking him in deeper and unwilling to let go. The way his fingers are _soaked._

"S..stop." Alicia whines out, once the stimulation begins to border on painful, and mercifully, Belphegor listens.

She doesn't get much rest, as soon as he retracts his fingers, she finds herself opening up her eyes just in time to notice the way he's holding his hand up, marveling at the slickness coating his digits. It's embarrassing, makes her feel hot all over and disgusting. Her hands clench, arms trying to get rid of the rope binding them together. She's out of breath, her clothes sticking uncomfortably, and Belphegor wipes the excess fluid on her thigh.

Belphegor starts to say something, but all Alicia can focus on is her own breathing.

Her own rapid heartbeat. She can't breathe, it's too much, it's—

Her body reacts automatically. Belphegor says something, _does_ something, and suddenly her head collides with the front of his own face. She hears him shout, pushing her forward a bit, loud cursing and then the _bang_ of a gunshot going off.

Her heart drops. 

Her ears are ringing, and there's someone _crying_ but that can't possibly be her? No. That's not—

" _Fuck!"_ Belphegor's voice snaps her out of her own thoughts. And it's only then that she realizes that he's no longer behind her but in front of her and kneeling. The gun is pointed directly at her. Belphegor stares, pissed, with blood running down his nose at her. "Go on, do that again. I fucking dare you."

Alicia blinks her tears away, finds it difficult. 

"Leave me alone!" Her arms hurt. Her legs hurt, and she _hates_ how wet she feels, how hot she feels inside. Her eyes trail to a distant spot behind him, where she can make it the impact of the bullet going through it. Her heart skips a beat at the thought, stomach lurching. She has a feeling that the shot had not been accidental, but rather a point. 

"Aw, no, no no _no_ —" Belphegor tuts softly, cupping her cheek, thumb wiping the tears staining her face in an act of intimacy that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Eyes on me, yeah, Dove?"

 _Dove_. 

It sounds wrong coming from his mouth, all mocking and ugly. She hates the way it makes her feel, hates the way it makes her breath cut short for reasons she doesn't even want to begin thinking about. 

Her mouth opens before she can do anything else, fists clenching and defiantly pulling back from his grasp, a full body thing at first and then just her upper half. Even if it pulls her muscle, Alicia sneers at Belphegor. "Fuck you!"

The demon blinks, and then his face breaks into a grin—all sharp teeth and downright cruel. His purple eyes twinkle with amusement.

" _Ah_ , she speaks!" The amusement in his face is quickly replaced, annoyance settling in there with ease. His eyes are the only indicator of his mood—intrigued, _pleased_ at himself for managing to get something else other than whimpers and muffled sounds. "It's the wrong thing though, _dove._ "

"You don't get to call me that, asshole." Alicia fumes, teeth bared and shaking, she's not thinking about how the other clearly has the upper hand in the situation. 

"Where was all that fight earlier when I got you off?" Belphegor ignores her. "Could've fooled me into thinking you weren't enjoying it."

Alicia huffs out through her nose, hating the way her face heats up.

"You like it when I'm rough with you?" Belphegor says, cruel. "Got my fingers here dripping—it's honestly pathetic how fast you used me to get off. Makes me wonder if you'd like it if I fucked you with it."

Alicia's eyes widen when Belphegor leans in closer, the muzzle of the gun pressing right against the damp patch of the seat of her panties. It's still slightly warm from the earlier shot, and Belphegor keeps a steady pressure on it, rubbing it up and down where her panties have stuck to her labia, the imprint of her lips prominent.

She's still sensitive.

"D-don't—"

"Yeah," Belphegor breathes out. "Could stuff your cute little cunt with it and it'd be the same thing for a slut like you, you don't need dick to fill you up, doll. No, I _know_." By now he's no longer looking at her, pupils blown wide as he presses the gun further, only the fabric of her underwear acting as a barrier against the weapon. Alicia keens when it bumps against her puffy clit, when he uses the gun to smear the slick fluids of her pussy around. 

Belphegor lets out a sound, a pleased groan, when he uses his free hand to hook a finger under her panties and pulling to the side. Alicia's pleas are ignored as Belphegor takes a look at her hole, the way it clenches around nothing. 

For a second, it almost looks like Belphegor is considering it when he presses the muzzle of it against her hole—using the gun to fuck her, pressing it in, in, _in_ until its covered with her own arousal an watching as her pink insides cling onto the weapon, trying to keep it in and filling her up inside.

He certainly tries, only to be met with resistance when Alicia whines, a loud _Nooo_ that dissolves into a whimper when she realizes she can't get away, and her attempt only manages to bring her hips closer to the gun, stretching her outer lips.

It's filthy, and makes a fresh bout of tears begin to pool at her eyes. She hates how powerless it makes her feel right now, at the hands of Belphegor's whims.

" _Fuck_ ," Belphegor's groan is a soft thing. He licks his lips once, twice, before retracting the gun but ripping the fabric away with ease. Instinct has Alicia attempting to close her legs, only to be met with resistance again, hating the way Belphegor has to pull the skirt back when it shifts to cover her. "Got me all worked up already, maybe next time I'll get to see you cream all around it."

 _Next time_ , like she's going to give him the time of day.

Belphegor looks up at Alicia, smiling softly and knowingly, as if he can read her mind. 

"Now," Belphegor starts, running one hand up her leg, up her thigh. Settling itself a few centimeters short of where the skirt has settled back down over her thighs. Belphegor hooks a single, long, sharp nail on the nylon fabric, creating a hole. He keeps his eye trained on Alicia's face, face brightening with the shaky exhale past her lips, the red-rimmed eyes, and the tear tracks staining her cheeks. "I'm going to undo these."

He drags the nail down her thigh, uncaring of the way Alicia's breathing hitches as she breathes out an _it hurts, stop_ when he makes sure to cut down her leg, blood swelling up in tiny bubbles behind his wake. When he gets to her ankles, the rope is cut away with ease. Belphegor says nothing when she pulls her leg back to herself, instead he does the same to the other leg.

Alicia contemplates running, but her legs are still shaking from her previous orgasm, from the adrenaline running through her veins, and she's sure her legs are cramping up right now. She also figures that Belphegor would enjoy that a little too much—watch her struggle only to pin her back down. 

She notices that Belphegor is not moving to undo the ropes binding her arms. She sucks in a breath.

"What about these?" She feels childish, raising her arms and waiting for his claws to break away the rope.

Belphegor levels her an unimpressed look. "What about them?"

"Cut them."

A flicker of annoyance. "Who do you think I am, Mammon?"

"No, but you _are_ an idiot." She bites back.

Belphegor's jaw clenches, eye narrows as he contemplates the woman before him. The way she's panting, the drying tears on her face, the disheveled appearance of both her uniform and her hair—soft curls frizzy and out of place, all work of his hands. Then his purple eye centers back down to her lips.

"I was going to fuck you." He starts, standing up, delighted to see that she makes no move to run away with her freely released legs. "Play with your needy pussy a bit more, maybe try and fuck the brat out of you." Belphegor runs a hand through her hair, ignoring the pained whimpers when his fingers catch on her curls. He forces her head forward with one hand, presses her face right against his crotch—cock painfully hard behind the confine of his sweats.

When Alicia tries to pull back, he pulls on her hair. Earning him another whimper, and then compliance.

He grins.

"I think you running your mouth just means you want to suck on my cock, no?"

Alicia grunts, pulling back from his grip on her hair, to look up at him. 

"I hate you."

"Yeah," Belphegor ignores her. "C'mon, open up."

Belphegor palms the top of her head with his hand, and with the other pushes down his sweats, only struggling briefly due to the gun still in his grip. Alicia's eyes flicker briefly to the gun, shame and _something_ lighting up inside of her when she notices the dried signs of her arousal, a bright contrast against the darkened weapon. That changes when he taps the side of her cheek with his cock.

Alicia blinks, and then tries to crane her head back a little before Belphegor stops her with the hand on her head. She can feel the pre sticking to her cheek where the reddened head of his dick slapped against her skin, and the sight of his arousal—long, thick and _slick_ with the copious amount of pre-cum dribbling out of the slit—has her whimpering without her knowledge. The sight of Belphegor holding on to his dick so casually, while holding a gun on the same hand should be ridiculous.

It would be.

If she didn't already know that the damn thing was loaded.

Belphegor doesn't give her another moment before he strokes his dick with a languid flick of the wrist, and then the hand on her head disappears. 

"Don't move." He grunts, and Alicia watches as he transfers the gun to his non-dominant hand, leaving his hand free to grasp onto his dick. Belphegor thumbs the head, spreading his pre around, bucking his hips onto his own fist and dragging the rest of his cock against the side of her lips, her cheek. 

The threat of the gun is the only thing keeping Alicia still, cheeks burning and _desperately_ ignoring the way her legs have shifted under her, the wetness between her thighs. The aching that's beginning to make itself known again, because the idea of acknowledging _this_ seems like too much.

"Open your mouth." He orders, and in a moment of defiance Alicia turns her head when he tries to shove his dick inside her mouth. Can't tell if the action annoyed him at all, not when he simply opts to dragging his dick across her cheek, once, and then twice. It's only when he tries again and finds closed lips stopping him from achieving his goal that Belphegor does something about it. The hand with the gun comes back into the picture.

"Don't make me say it twice, _dove_." Belphegor taps the gun against her face. "A hole is a hole, whether or not you're alive. So stop being difficult and open up your mouth."

Alicia clenches her jaw, weighs the options of disobeying again, but decides against it. If he wants to get his dick sucked, he'll have to do the work himself.

She opens up her mouth, looking up at him through long eyelashes.

"Stick out your tongue, say 'aah' for me." 

Rolling her eyes, she complies with the request. Belphegor smirks down at her, amused at the pettiness. He runs the slit of his head against her tongue, letting the heaviness of it sit inside her mouth. She crinkles her nose for a second, willing her jaw to relax in case he decides to throat fuck her without letting her know. Still aware of the gun, she tries to put some space between them, but Belphegor is unrelenting and presses it right back against her temple.

She huffs out, annoyed, as if to say _well?_

Belphegor laughs, a breathless little thing. "Go on, aren't you forgetting to thank me?"

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Alicia shoots him a murderous glare, but instead of following after his wishes, she instead closes her lips around the head of his dick, running her tongue over the slit of his cock and then sucking. Belphegor groans, and then thrusts forward, lodging himself deep inside her throat. Alicia's eyes widen, and she let's out a noise of protest, but Belphegor ignores it.

When she tries to pull back, Belphegor winds a single hand around her hair and pushes her forward. Groaning, drooling. " _Ah,_ fuck. So good."

He uses his hold on her hair to guide her head back, until his cock pops free from her mouth. When Alicia breathes in again, he takes the opportunity to drive the thick shaft back inside of her mouth. Belphegor starts up a messy, but slow and steady pace, with every other stroke hitting the back of her throat, making her gag around his length. It becomes increasingly clear that he's not focused at all on the gun—knocking agaisnt her face with every harsh thrust of his—but rather on chasing his pleasure, and with each painful tug of hair her scalp burns and more tears begin to run down her face.

Alicia feels like a mess, hates the fact that with every groan, every cut off praise, every _good girl, yeah you take me so well_ that leaves his mouth, she feels herself shifting, her nipples oversensitive behind her bra, the uniform, the way her brain focuses on how _good_ it feels to be praised. It's a heady sort of feeling, and if she doesn't think too hard about the fucking gun then—

Then—

It's nice, makes her feel nice. It's fucked up, is what it is. The rope burns and chaffs her skin, but Belphegor distracts her from it by speaking. Urging her to _c'mon open your eyes, ah-Alicia._

When she does, peering up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes unfocused and lips wrapped around the base of his own erection, she sees the way his face is splotchy red, purple of his eyes a thin ring around the black of his pupils. Belphegor looks undone, the way his eyes flicker all over her face, scanning for something, anything—

It makes her run cold, _hot._

"G-good," Belphegor chokes out on a moan. He pulls on her head back harshly, and then thrusts back in. "Fuck, _fuck_ you take me so well, you dumb cocksleeve." Belphegor doesn't miss the flutter of her eyelashes, the way she weakly moans at the insult, he lets out a chocked out laugh, breathless. "You're messed up in the head, you know?"

He knocks on her head again with the gun, and fear is the only reason why she sucks him harder, uses her tongue to cover whatever else the tight and wet suction of her mouth and her throat can't do. Belphegor takes it for what it is not—an agreement of his assessment.

"I should just shoot you," Belphegor groans. Pulling her back again and letting his cock slip out from her mouth. Alicia is a mess, panting and choking on her spit and Belphegor's own arousal. She leans forward, resting her face on his crotch. Belphegor sneers, and with a cruel smirk pushes her back with two fingers against her forehead. Gives no indication of giving her a chance to breathe before he's pointing the barrel of the gun right in between her eyebrows.

Alicia's breathing hitches. 

Belphegor pumps his cock with his free hand, heavy and hard strokes, fast. "Go on, beg." He presses the gun harder.

Alicia's brain and mouth aren't running on the same wavelength. Her brain is telling her that he's _bluffing,_ has to be. Her mouth is already stumbling over her words, ugly tears running down her face and chocking on her own clogged up nose and spit. 

Belphegor strokes his dick once, twice-

"Fuck, you're too much of a little bitch to do anything about it." Belphegor moans. Mean, cruel.

Alicia opens her mouth to say something else, Belphegor sticks the gun inside her mouth without fanfare just as his orgasm hits him, and he's groaning and pushing the gun further in into her mouth until she hears her choke on it, and even _then_ -makes sure to shoot his load right on her face, in her hair. The sticky mess of their fluids makes his cock twitch in interest, the look in her eyes of unadulterated fear that makes him retract the gun, finger poised over the trigger.

Alicia doesn't say anything, but her eyes are carefully trained on his finger. There's something conflicting in her gaze that has Belphegor tilting his head, peering at her with something like renewed interest.

After a beat of silence, Alicia speaks. Her voice sounds fucked, and it makes Belphegor's fingers itch with the need to stick his fingers inside her mouth. To collect his come and make her swallow it.

"Let me go." 

Belphegor frowns. "Now, why would I do that? We just got started." 

**Author's Note:**

> the only saving grace of this fic is belphie's dirty talk, imho. 3rd pov is weird and i have to give props to everyone that still uses it, couldn't be me. i mean, it used to be me, once upon a time, but 2nd pov is just superior. fight me on this one. 
> 
> never beta read, all mistakes are my own. you know the drill, come yell at me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/crystalbases).


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